[30 June, 2008]

She dreams in color

I felt young again as I raced down I-91 blaring "Even Flow" out the window of my old car. I was returning from a hot date with Pearl Jam, my grunge spirit fully revived. Despite an adventurous start to the night (who knew there would be about 20,000 drunken Connecticut frat boys dying to get in touch with their anti-establishment selves?), I found myself on a grassy field, in a cloud of marijuana, wrapped in the enchanting angsty sounds of Eddie Vedder's voice. The night was warm and clear. As I sat under the stars, soaking in the memories of my once marginalized underground existence, I became increasingly nostalgic for the rock-n-roll passion of these songs. Although I might have missed the height of the grunge movement by a few years, I still sported my fair share of flannel shirts. I too shielded by face from the voyeuristic unforgiving cruel world with long unkempt hair. Life, it was full of pain and full of music that connected us tortured souls. I know I am undoubtedly in a better place now, but man, did it feel good to once again rock out to these soul-ripping melodies.

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